Prayer
by Lady Jadealiya
Summary: A moment of despair and a desperate plea, the when the hero did not show up in time… pre-windwaker - Written for the 30kisses fic challange


Title: "Prayer"  
By: Jadealiya  
Pairing: Link/Zelda  
Fandom: Legend of Zelda  
Theme: #26 If only I could make you mine…  
Timeline: Pre-Windwaker  
Disclaimer: Nintendo's characters, written neither for profit nor gain  
Many thanks to Keiran, my ever-patient beta

Their orders had been clear. The battle was lost; flee the castle and take the princess to safety.

The princess gives every indication of honoring her father's wishes while in his line of sight, but promptly takes off down a corridor leading deeper into the castle once beyond his gaze. She does not glance back to ensure her keepers aren't going to stop her. She believes in their loyalty to her and their faith in her wisdom, assuming such things weigh more than orders from a harried king.

The follow, as do I. Let my sisters tend to the rest for the time being.

Her path brings them into the catacombs deep beneath the castle. The air is thick but lacks the staleness typically found in underground chambers. It is alive, a repository for the spirits of those who are currently dying in the battle raging above their heads. With her unconscious grace and pale gown the princess seems already one of their number, seeking her place of rest in the darkness. Her followers trail after her wordlessly, exchanging leaden glances, seeking assurances that others share their growing unease. There would be trouble, if the attackers found them. There would be more if the King learned they had disobeyed his orders. But in the end, the princess' assumption is correct; their loyalty is to her. They hold their tongues and watch as she unlocks a chamber they all well know. "The Hero's Tomb" is an ancient room said to house the body of the last incarnation of the legendary savor of Hyrule. All of them had been here before in their lady's company. The old stories long ago captured her fancy and she made a habit of visiting the shrine.

The princess steps gingerly into the room, gesturing for one of her keepers to bring forward a torch. Ignoring the slight tremor that shakes the walls, the princess walks slowly to the prone statue. The sarcophagus is in truth empty, but bares the same tunic, sword, and noble face as the story books and memorials etched in the girl's memory. Heedless of the fine layer of dust, the princess kneels by the carving's side, laying a slender gloved hand atop the hero's shoulder as her living companions fan out behind her.

They await her in silence, as do I. It takes several moments for the princess to order her words.

"Please" she whispers at last, her voice small and quickly swallowed by the too heavy air. "Always, you have been there when we needed you…in every war, in every coming of darkness…you have arrived to turn away the night. We need you now…wherever you are…"

I cannot claim surprise as this entreaty, though many would expect the princess to call upon my favor in her time of need. After all, was not the rest of the kingdom calling upon the Goddesses, begging our intervention? Amazing that her spirit knows the truth of things, though she knows of him only through her people's stories. It is also most telling to see how she crumbles when the eleventh hour falls and he has not appeared.

Another tremor shakes the castle walls, strong enough to force even the most practiced guard to steady his balance by grabbing the nearest wall or arm of a comrade. The men looked again at each other for support, one even taking a step towards the princess, reaching towards her and muttering her name.

The princess seems to be ignoring tremors and her companions both. She slowly shifts closer to her stone champion, resting her head against the cleverly carved hands clutching a blade as famous as its wielder.

"Please." Her voice shakes slightly, pitched still at a whisper. "I do not understand. Always, you have come. Every time a lady of my house and name needed her champion. I do not understand why…why you have not come for me."

Trailing off, the princess closes her eyes. The guards and I watch as a tear slips from her cheek to the dust shrouded stone, wiping clean a trail as it vanishes in the darkness of the ground. Pulling herself up slightly, smearing dust along her bodice, the princess leans over and touches her lips to that of the hero.

The men look pained, their eyes locked on their princess who rests her forehead on the stone hero's, her lips moving as she continued her entireties in silence.

My intercession has not been requested here, but I am obliged none the less. To stress her further until we know what has become of Faroe's lad would be to risk everything.

I can sense my sisters slowing time, preparing to preserve the kingdom in stasis until the cycles begins again. I could leave the princess and her followers here, frozen with the others, but I deem it necessary to follow another course.

Let her live a different sort of life for a time.

The energies in the air shift as my magic takes hold. The men panic as they find themselves frozen in place, aware and unable to act. They will awaken to another life, far above the world they knew, this place forgotten until he returns.

The princess does not notice, bent still over her stone love, lost to her silent entreaties.

She prays for salvation. She prays for hope. She prays for her love. As do I.


End file.
